


in every job that must be done, there is an element of fun

by Swing Set in December (swing_set13)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, patisseries and bike cops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/pseuds/Swing%20Set%20in%20December
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And just when Stiles thought it couldn't get any worse, there's a bike cop ticketing his pink Vespa in front of his patisserie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in every job that must be done, there is an element of fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lielabell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/gifts).



> for my dear nicole (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ ♥ because she gets the fandom literary police after her writing. and really, literary peeps getting upset over the over-use of flail and sourwolf and then be ok with derek teaching intermediate calculus while wearing an ascot or stiles opening a patisserie and riding a vespa then i have no idea what you’re complaining about when you read fics. because everything is (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ ♥. you feel me? so apparently people were super disappointed that there was no fic where stiles owned a vespa and a patisserie. my bad. so here is the first installment of my tea infused dreams. 
> 
> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ ♥ yeah, i am apparently getting back to writing. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ ♥

The grand opening of _Patisserie Au Clair De La Lune_ is tomorrow. Stiles knows opening the patisserie is the single most atypical Stiles related move. Well, second. But only if he counts buying the pink Vespa now parked in front of the curb of his pastry shop. But technically the salesman at the motorcycle dealership shouldn’t have let a drunk Stiles buy one. Or at least sign up for premium financing. 

Either way, change is good. A good change. In with the new. And out with everything that reminded him of his ex who tore out his heart at the alter in front of all his friends and family. So a fresh start. The complete opposite of law enforcement is pastry chef. Or at least it made more sense six months ago when he moved back to his home town, Beacon Hills, where his dad is the sheriff and out of the loft apartment he shared with his now ex-fiance in Quantico.

This has to work.

It’s _going_ to work.

Fucking hell, just when Stiles thought it couldn't get any worse, there's a police bike cop ticketing his pink Vespa in front of his patisserie. 

“Hey!” Stiles shouts, scrambling from the doorway of his shop to outside where the police officer is trying to figure out a way to stick a ticket on Stiles’ pink motorbike. “Yeah you! Officer-” Stiles squints at the name emblazoned on the two sizes too small uniform. “Hale. That’s my-“

“Oh good,” Officer Hale says with a smirk from behind his douchy sunglasses and Stiles is left holding a pink ticket to match his Vespa.

And the stupid police officer in tight shorts actually bikes away. Safety helmet, high white socks and all. 

“ _Son of a b-_ “

***

” _-itch!_ ” Stiles finishes his long diatribe as his best friend since diapers, Scott McCall, finishes his chocolatine. The morning went well with the opening. Lots of foot traffic. But right now the shop is deserted. 

“This could use more butter,” says Scott, licking his fork.

“It does not,” scowls Stiles. “You ate three of them.”

“Taste testing,” replies Scott. “And can’t you just tell your dad about this?”

Stiles scrubs his face tiredly. “And what, get another sad eyed look about my life choices? And how maybe moving back here to Beacon Hills wasn’t the best idea? And giving up my career in the FBI wasn't the smartest move?”

“Your dad would never-“

“The eyes! Scott, the eyes! I mean, he’s been treating me with kid gloves since-“

“-since the wedding?” finishes Scott. “Dude, you haven’t even talked about it with me. We got drunk in the woods and-“

“And that was therapeutic and purging,” says Stiles.

“Vomiting in the woods is not purging,” replies Scott, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I think I lost my appetite.”

“Good, great, then maybe I can get some paying customers to deal with this hundred dollar fine,” scowls Stiles looking at where he posted the pink ticket on the cork board that announces the week’s specials. Right under the bright cursive print highlighting raspberry madeleines and cassis macarons. “From a _bike_ cop.”

“You said he was hot,” says Scott.

“Not the point, Scott!”

“Dude, I think it kind is. I mean, your Vespa is still out there,” points Scott. “You’re going to get ticketed again.”

“That’s the plan,” says Stiles.

“Your plan is to get fined even more?” blinks Scott. “I can’t believe you used to be a secret agent.”

“Special agent,” says Stiles.

“That _is_ the word I would use,” says Scott before pushing up from his chair. “I gotta go. Promised Allison I’d pick her up from the gallery.”

“Yeah, yeah,” mutters Stiles. “I’m going to pretend you’re paying for those madeleines.”

“They’re for Allison,” says Scott. “Good luck with your stakeout, _Special Agent_.”

Stiles flips his best friend the finger as a old couple totter into the patisserie.

***

It's been seven hours. And nary a bicycle. But Stiles didn't have the highest solve rate in his division at the Bureau for not being able to have patience.He has it by the buckets. And here he has pastries. All the pastries he could ever want. So his ready. Ready for this. Ready for Officer _Bike Shorts_ Hale. 

He may have not thought this through.

Because he has to pee. 

_Fuck._

It's only after coming back from the bathroom that he sees the familiar pink ticket flapping in the wind under his Vespa's seat. 

“Son of a _bitch_!”


End file.
